Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse novel Chapter 3765

Time.

An hour, maybe more, slipped by in the manner that only those with patience and power could appreciate.

I sat, unmoving, a stillness deeper than any silence.

Beside me, Kalysta stood casually, her Null Form gleaming faintly under the endless storming paradox skies of the Middle Wheel Platform.

Conversation drifted between us, light, unhurried.

"So," I said idly, my voice cutting softly through the weighted air, "tell me more about your Veiled Sunfolds."

Kalysta smiled, a faint, almost melancholic thing, before settling into the explanation.

"It's a region across the Nullvein Gravewake Folds," she began, her tone rich and layered with something approaching reverence. "Not like the Graveyards all around. The Veiled Sunfolds are… different."

She tilted her head back, gazing upwards as if seeing something distant and vast.

"Picture it. Infinite Ravine Gateways, colossal breaches between thirty-nine Wheels of Existence, all collapsed and stitched into each other. Each Gateway Domus spills endless golden weavings, rivers of collapse, of trillions of dying suns strung together by decaying collapsed folds. Sunfolds. The skyspace there isn't a skyspace, it's a sea of extinguished constellations, glowing faintly as if remembering life."

She let the image settle, her voice low and sure.

"The Veiled Sunfolds are where some of the best of the Living drift to when they are tired of simply existing. The weavings there, collapsed suns, some broken Wheels, ancient ruins, they form territories."

She smiled faintly, turning her gaze to me.

"Entities like you," she said softly, "who can leave a mark on the Folds, they're treated well."

A pause.

"They're given resources you can't even imagine. True Source Wells. Endless True Manna Hearts. Unique Constructs, Ancient Lattices, even fragments of extinct True Sources that nobody can understand. The kind of things that don't just make you powerful, they make you a name whispered across the Folds."

The wind stirred faintly, tugging at the ends of her gleaming Null Form as she watched me, a strange hope threading her expression.

An invitation from her that remained.

I said nothing.

I merely listened, noncommittal, quiet, sovereign.

My interest wasn't in Rulership or Territories.

But in what strange, exotic True Sources might be hidden among those collapsed Suns and tangled Frequencies, among other wonders.

As I was thinking of this…

BZZT!

| Absolute Fictional Transcendence has activated. The subject of a Fable you have observed is about to be entangled with your current ongoing Fable. The sub ability of Differential Fabled Viewpoint can be activated at the calculated cost of 100 Existential Dimensional Lattices. |

…!

The prompt unfolded smoothly across my awareness.

Unexpected.

Curious.

But not unwelcome.

I leaned back slightly, observing the prompt as more information cascaded.

| Differential Fabled Viewpoint allows you to make a descent into any character you have previously observed the Fable of under unique conditions, allowing you to view their Fable through their own eyes. Their thoughts and weavings become clear to you as if you gain a deep enough understanding, you can establish a Fabled Bookmark that allows you to copy any viable Weavings of Existence of the target for yourself. |

…!

Now, that…

Even for me, it was astonishing.

A gateway not just into the lives of others.

But into their very structure.

Into their Fables.

Into their Weavings of Existence.

I would not merely observe. I would understand. I would walk in their essence!

| Subject Identified: Bob. |

Mmm.

A slow smile curved my lips.

I could feel the authority shift as Absolute Fictional Transcendence awaited my decision, the cost spelled out clearly.

| Cost: 100 Existential Dimensional Lattices. Confirm? |

A heavy price.

A steep one.

But was it worth it?

Absolutely.

A moment passed, and a breath was drawn across broken time.

And then…

Confirm.

| Confirmed. Deducting and utilizing the full authority of 100 Existential Dimensional Lattices. Within the next few hours, they will not be viable for usage. |

| Initiating Differential Fabled Viewpoint: Bob. |

| Warning: Absolute Fictional Transcendence will operate under extreme strain during this period. Further operations will be restricted until gradual recovery. |

The Lattices around my existence dimmed, not weakened, but folded inward, compressed into the framework of the unfolding authority as they would allow for Absolute Fictional Transcendence to do what it was about to do.

I closed my eyes.

The world shifted.

Perspective shattered.

And I fell.

Not through space.

Not through time.

Through Fable.

Through Bob.

—

HUUM!

The Calcified Wheels groaned beneath their immense weight.

Massive, ancient structures of collapse, petrified paradox made into stepping stones. Shattered echoes of entire Wheels of Existence reduced to platforms for ascension.

Bob moved with a patience that belied his monstrous form. His 500-inch Null Form pulsed with a grotesque beauty, endless tentacles unfurled and writhed slowly, the marks of Existential Dimensional Lattices etched like ancient script across his towering figure.

Beside him, Thauron, the Null Monarch, moved as well.

His 1,000-inch Null Form was a thing of dreadful symmetry, jagged and regal, a throne of collapsed possibilities in motion.

They leapt from one Calcified Wheel to the next.

And as they did, Thauron spoke, his voice a low, rumbling tide.

"The Middle Wheel Platform is where the real dance begins," Thauron mused, his tone patient, his words soaked in the gravity of one who had seen eternities rise and fall. "The Sigils there are not mere exercises in familiarity."

He paused.

"They're windows."

Bob's massive form shifted, tentacles flexing as he listened, the carved weavings on his form gleaming faintly under the paradox-heavy skies.

"Each Sigil," Thauron continued, "is a story of a True Source, refined and elevated to something grand. Not just as it is. But as it can be."

He lifted one massive clawed hand, gesturing with a slow, almost reverent motion.

"A fool with a True Source of Ice might see only frost, cold, and silence."

"But a wise one," Thauron said, his voice tightening, "might observe a Sigil of Fire, and learn how to make his Ice burn hotter than any flame. How to make his Frost consume, smother, and ignite."

He chuckled, a sound like ancient stones of existence grinding together.

Thoughtful. _{freewёbnoνel.com}